


The Right Sandalwood

by GutterBall



Series: These Two Clownshoes [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Chuck becomes the care-giver, M/M, Role Reversal, alternate POV of the main story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Chuck's POV of the lead-up to Raleigh's nightmare and the aftermath. Again requested by estei, because she's awesome when she asks for alternate POVs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Sandalwood

Chuck lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He vaguely wished he'd thought to ask his old man to bring Max by, though he knew why he hadn't. He somehow knew he wouldn't sleep, knew he'd end up tossing and turning.

He just wanted a warm body curled up against him, okay? Max's stocky little frame had always been enough before.

Unfortunately, he wasn't sure it would have been enough now, even if he'd thought to ask.

He'd never really felt safe before. Not in easily-accessed memory, anyway. He'd felt strong, of course. Self-sufficient. He'd always known he could take care of himself, and not just because he'd had to.

But he wasn't used to feeling _safe_. To letting himself be weak enough -- no, _vulnerable_ enough, which wasn't quite the same thing, and even he could admit it -- to allow someone to help him feel safe.

He didn't want Max curled up against him. He wanted Raleigh. Even if it was Chuck doing the spooning, it still felt like Raleigh was doing the protecting. And he wanted that, even if he wasn't exactly vulnerable anymore.

Sighing heavily, he craned his head around to look at the time readout on his display, then sighed even more heavily. He hadn't even been in bed an hour, and he already wanted to chalk this up as a failed experiment and go to Raleigh's bunk. He knew he'd sleep just fine there. He'd proved it last night. Hell, they'd _both_ been able to sleep all week, even on Chuck's shitty, lumpy, annoying as fuck mattress.

Together. Curled up in a pile against the night.

And Raleigh said he hadn't had any nightmares the whole time. Maybe... maybe Chuck made him feel as safe as Raleigh did for him. Maybe the poor git was having a screaming nightmare right this second, and Chuck was moping in his own bunk, trying to prove... what? That he didn't need anyone? That his therapist was right and he didn't need any sudden, intense attachments?

Or that his therapist was wrong and he _did_ need an attachment? Because he was draggingly tired but had never felt further from sleep in his whole life.

He doubted Raleigh was having a nightmare yet, though. The bloke had a hard time going to sleep, even curled up in a pile of blankets with Chuck, so he doubted the poor sod was asleep yet, let alone sunk in a nightmare.

He hated his fucking awful bed. He hadn't really noticed before, but after a week of practically being leg-shackled to it, he fucking hated it. It was too hard. Or too soft, which made every weird lump stand out and prod annoyingly at his ribs or his ass or his neck. Too _something._ He'd only managed to be comfortable when propped almost upright against Raleigh's front or when wrapped around the bloke's back.

Grumbling, he yanked the extra pillow Raleigh had requested for him out from behind his head and turned to his side, curling around it. Not the same. It smelled like his own sandalwood shampoo, but not like that shampoo smelled on Raleigh. And it was too soft. Raleigh was built like a brick shithouse, solid and sturdy and comforting as fuck. Nothing soft or yielding about him.

Except the low rumble of his voice as he read Chuck to sleep. Except how he might start out cuddling Chuck but somehow end up being cuddled by the time they woke up.

Grunting, he threw the pillow across the room and flopped back to his back to stare up at the ceiling some more. Maybe he should text the bloke, make sure he was all right.

_Great idea, genius. And if the poor sod is actually asleep for once?_

He grit his teeth. Right. Stupid idea. Raleigh said himself that he rarely got more than a few hours of sleep at a time, and sometimes not even that. Texting him -- accidentally _waking him up_ \-- was the worst idea ever.

Maybe... he could just... sneak a peek. He had the bloke's door code. It'd be a trifle to slip over to the silly sod's bunk and just peek in to see if he was already asleep. If he wasn't, well... maybe they could watch another movie -- he didn't care that all the bloke's haunted house movies were depressing as fuck -- and fall asleep in a pile. And if he _was...._

Well, maybe he could ease under the covers with him. Raleigh wouldn't mind. The bloke had said as much earlier when he gave him his door code in the first place. He wouldn't wake the poor git up. Just... none of this was putting him to sleep, and he knew he'd drop right off if he just had some body heat to curl around. That comforting combination of sandalwood and Raleigh to bury his face in.

Right, then.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he rolled out of his hateful mattress and clinging blankets and slipped out into the hallway. No one around. It was too late for anyone else to be prowling the halls.

Even so, he couldn't help but tiptoe as he headed around the hallway's curve toward Raleigh's bunk. He didn't want to draw any attention. He honestly wasn't sure what he'd say if anyone asked what he was doing.

He was so focused on being silent, in fact, that he damn near screamed himself when he opened the door and Raleigh's hoarse screams echoed down the hall. Fortunately or unfortunately, he fell instantly into crisis mode and didn't just stand there, panicking like a dumb shit. He hurried through the door and closed it behind him, hoping no one else heard the echoes and came running.

Unfortunately, once he was alone in the semi-dark with those hoarse cries and Raleigh's thrashing, heaving body, he had no real idea what to do. He'd had nightmares before, of course -- couldn't fight kaiju without the ol' brain saving up a few images to throw back at you later -- but never like this. Raleigh was... in _torment._

Heart pounding, he ran to the bed and, though he knew it probably wasn't a good idea, took the thrashing bloke by the upper arms and called to him.

"Raleigh, mate, it's just a dream, yeah?" But it wasn't. Nothing that could cause this visceral a reaction could be just a dream. "C'mon, mate, wake up. Come back to me, yeah? Raleigh?"

His grip firmed, but that's when Raleigh started struggling in earnest, and when he couldn't help but curse when the bloke jacked him in the jaw, the poor sod broke completely, tearing away from him and squeezing himself into the corner between his headboard and the wall. His eyes were wide in the dark, and suddenly, Raleigh Becket looked about six years old and utterly terrified of whatever had stalked him in the night.

All the air in Chuck's lungs froze, and he could only hold his hands out as if trying to soothe a wild animal. "Raleigh, please, you were having one fuck of a nightmare, but you're back now." Maybe. God, he hoped so. "You're awake and you're safe, yeah? Are you back with me?"

The bloke didn't answer, still wall-eyed with whatever he'd dreamed. Helpless, Chuck again reached for him, but Raleigh jerked back even further, curling around himself.

"Don't. Don't touch me."

"Sorry, sorry." Fuck. What the fuck could he even do? What the fuck did anyone do in this situation? Maybe he should just ask. "Shit, I... what should I do? Is there something I can do to help?"

He didn't remember having nightmares as a child. He had no memory of his mum running to his room to soothe him, though he was sure it must have happened at least once. And his old man... well. No. Never once.

What the fuck could he do?

"Chuck?"

Relief so sharp it felt like a knife sliced through him. "Oh, thank God. You're awake. Jesus, mate, what can I do?"

And Raleigh Fucking Becket just blinked those agonizingly wide eyes up at him and asked, "Are you okay?"

Fuck. Fucking hell. "Am _I--??"_ Was it any wonder this fuckwit somehow made Chuck feel safe just by existing? Even in the midst of his own horror-- "Fuck, Raleigh, only you could come out of a screaming nightmare and ask if someone else is okay."

"So I _was_ screaming."

"Oh, yeah." Exhausted suddenly, he started to sit on the edge of the bed, then realized that might not be a good idea just yet. Not with the bloke still making himself as small as possible. "Heard it as soon as I opened the door. Scared the shit out of me." A huff of a laugh caught him offguard. "Well, I mean, not _literally,_ but...."

Because they'd already been there and done that, hadn't they? He continued to try and talk the poor sod down from his terror, but he couldn't have remembered the actual words later if someone put a gun to his head. Because that part, remembering how Raleigh had taken care of him at his weakest and most vulnerable moment without complaint, without insult, without recriminations... well, maybe it was time Chuck repaid that kindness.

So he said whatever he said to soothe the bloke, fully ready to sit watch in Raleigh's rolly chair -- all night, if needed -- and do whatever it took for Raleigh to feel safe. Like he'd made Chuck feel.

Of course, when the bloke crawled out of his corner and held up the blanket in invitation, Chuck only paused to check for confirmation before climbing in and wrapping around the poor sod. It was the warm body curled up against him that he'd wanted, but he hated the shivering. He knew it had nothing to do with being cold, after all.

Sighing, he did as Raleigh had to comfort him, stroking up and down his back, running his fingers through the bloke's hair -- there was that sandalwood-and-Raleigh scent he'd missed -- and murmuring nothings until the poor bastard settled a bit.

Eventually, the shivering stopped, and all that solid warmth slumped heavily against him as Raleigh drifted off to what Chuck sincerely hoped would be a restful sleep. Only then did he relax himself, still stroking the bloke's back and holding him close. No more trying to sleep apart. He'd thought the bloke was joking when he said the next nightmare might give him a heart attack, but he couldn't have anticipated....

Jesus. He'd never had a dream that bad in his life. How often did Raleigh have them? No wonder the bloke couldn't fucking sleep.

But that sandalwood-and-Raleigh scent soothed him, and the heat of Raleigh's solid bulk against him finally did its work of making him first drowsy, then sleepy, then barely awake at all. And when Raleigh sighed and rolled to his other side to scoot back against him, the incongrous little spoon in their weird sleeping arrangement, Chuck only nuzzled close and breathed in, letting himself feel comforted even as he gave comfort himself.

After a while, without being sure when it happened, he fell asleep.


End file.
